Fava Beans

So, I actually grew fava beans once. Last year, I think it was. I had a bit of a garden out at Karen's place and for some reason, even though I had NEVER EATEN THEM, I decided that I should try growing fava beans. The plants grew well, flowered early and formed a few large, fuzzy pods at some point... (I think I was out of town for that, but anyway), when harvest time came around, I picked about twelve bean pods, all different sizes from the fava bean plants. I think I shelled them, getting perhaps 30 beans of various sizes - I ate a couple, found them bitter; it seemed so pointless that I think I gave the rest to the chickens.

Last Thursday, I worked with my friend, Carole, at her coffee booth at the market. Before leaving, I wandered amongst the fantastic bounty of St. Jacob's market and noticed that one of the vendors had many baskets of fava beans for sale. Honouring my bean fixation, I stopped to look. Before I knew what I was doing, I had purchased two 2 quart baskets (2 for $5.00) and was walking away whistling. Fava beans are so enormous that my huge bag, bristling with fuzzy pods seemed like quite a deal for five bucks. At home, the shelling began on the front porch. I sat on the porch step with a colander and my bag of favas, a frosty beer at my side. All seemed well with the universe.

After about half an hour, I looked down at the colander and wondered if I was missing when I dropped beans into it; there was an awfully small pile of pale beans at the bottom. The compost bag beside it was bristling with the fat, empty pods, however. Obviously, I needed some livestock to feed. Probably pigs would do the trick. The shelling continued, unabated, for perhaps another hour until at last I had pried open the last fat pod and dropped the last bean onto the little hill in the colander.
We boiled them for about three minutes, then I tried one. The skin was thick, tough and bitter. The little darlings needed to be skinned! So, another 15 minutes or so went by as we skinned the little buggers. By the time we were done, we had such a small pathetic pile of beans that I said to Rob, "These things are a rip-off! I'm never buying them again!"

I had sauteed a pile of onions and garlic in olive oil, with a couple of nice tomatoes and a bit of salt. We tossed in the fava beans and mixed it all up. We cracked a bottle of white wine (in Italy, fava beans are eaten with white wine...) and a loaf of crusty bread and sat down to eat.
The beans were like nothing I have ever tasted. A little bit sweet, a little bit bitter, a little bit nutty, soft and buttery, totally delicious and very, very satisfying.
By the end of the first bowl, I was eating my words along with the beans. "I'm definitely getting these again!" I said. "We should be growing these things! They're fantastic!"
Rob nodded in agreement, his mouth too full to speak.